


Problems

by byesweetheart (ConstantComment)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Injury, M/M, Massage, Massage Therapist Nishinoya Yuu, Non-Linear Narrative, Physical Therapy, Pro Volleyball Player Azumane Asahi, Self-Esteem Issues, professional misconduct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-26 11:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16680487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantComment/pseuds/byesweetheart
Summary: Prompt:MassageWhen Asahi injures himself during a game, his team doctor prescribes physical therapy. The thing is, Asahi isn't very good at therapy, especially the physical kind, when its with a new, and disarmingly handsome, guy.





	Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Day One of NSFW November, kicking it off with a rollercoaster of a fic. I’m trying out Asahi’s voice for the first time & he’s amazingly exasperated / not very kind with himself, so keep that in mind. Otherwise, inaccurate portrayals of physical therapy ahead!

His cock presses insistently against the soft cotton sheet covering the firm pad of the table. It's leaking — he can feel it — and it's been slicking, sticking up the skin just under his navel as it rubs, trapped underneath him, and there's no way he can hold back a soft groan as strong little fingers knead _slowly_ into the base of his back, push him into the table as they sweep up to his neck and _squeeze_ into his skin and the stroke back down to lean into the meat of his ass. Soft or not, the noise presses out of him and interrupts the shimmery music coming from the CD player, and the fingers pause.

Asahi flinches, eyes slamming shut.

He is going to die.

~

He was prescribed it, okay? His team doctor filled out a little slip of paper and so he went to a physical therapist who specialized in sports injuries and massage. And that would be fine for a normal person. For a guy who just... was cool around people, right?

But the thing is, Asahi _isn't_ cool around people. He's really just... generally an anxious mess all around — it’s the opposite of cool — and has a lot of stress that even his professional volleyball contract can't sweat out. He knows this. It's a problem he's had forever, it's a problem he manages, and it's a problem that ebbs and flows... Yeah, it's a problem, but it's not as big a problem as when he's meeting someone new.

So, when he got a minor injury during a match... honestly, he was almost more annoyed about the forced socialization it entailed than for the pain he'd go through trying to heal up.

Walking up to the small storefront, all white on the inside except for a large canvas print of a koi pond and a neatly-dressed receptionist who made too much small talk, Asahi had dreaded the handshake, and the eye contact and, god, even the discussion of his shoulder and medical history, which was as straightforward as it got.

But then, a young guy with wild, jet black hair and a streak of bleach-blonde in his widow's peak appeared from around the corner. Distractingly touchable-looking hair aside, he had big brown smiling eyes, a cute nose and the warmest grin as he strode toward Asahi in black pants and a long sleeved t-shirt that showed off his compact, muscled frame effortlessly.

"Azumane Asahi?" He held out his hand, shoulders shifting confidently but unassumingly, and Asahi reached out, nodding. "Hey man, I'm Noya," he said, grin quirking into something softer when Asahi just... continued to nod. "Come on back and let's get a look at you."

It _was not fun_ the first few weeks. Not that it got fun as time went on — someone pressing their thumbs into your deep tissue when you're sporting an injury is fun enough to make a grown man cry — but Noya was as gentle as his hands were firm.

Asahi _had_ cried, a couple sessions in. After stretches and exercises and _lots_ of water breaks, Noya always put him on his massage table, hands working over Asahi's Under Armour tee. But that evening something had opened up, just _unlatched_ like a key in a lock, when he'd leaned heavily into Asahi's back and unknotted a lingering strain. It loosened up his whole back and neck, his whole body, blood moving, heart pumping, heart bursting, it felt like. Sucking a rush of air into his lungs like he'd just learned to breathe, tears pricked at Asahi's eyes and on his next exhale, he let out a _sob._

"Wow," Noya had rumbled out. "That was awesome, Asahi. Your breathing totally changed! I think we just made a breakthrou — "

Choking with the sudden onslaught of emotion, Asahi couldn't even hold back his tears as he struggled to get up, confused and embarrassed. But Noya just shushed him kindly.

"Okay?" he'd said, like he did at the end of all their sessions, but it was quieter, understanding in a way. His eyes didn't show alarm or discomfort but almost... reached out when Asahi managed to look up at him.

"I don't know what's — what's happened. I'm sorry, I can't seem to s-stop," Asahi had whimpered, holding his hands tight to his eyes despite the deep-set exhaustion overtaking him. 

What a fucking mess.

"It's totally alright, man. You're doing amazing. Sometimes when... it's a lot, sometimes!"

Sitting in his gym shorts, bare feet flat on the floor, Asahi's shoulders had drooped and he closed his eyes.

"Can I have a moment? Is that okay?"

"Oh! Yeah, of course!" He nearly jumped to obey, always respectful of Asahi's boundaries, but before he closed the door he walked to the sink by the CD player and filled a tiny cup of water. The cup was even tinier in Asahi's hands when Noya pressed it into them.

A fresh wave of emotion hit him when Noya didn't back away at first, but reached out and passed his hand over Asahi's hair, dry palm grazing his ear, before catching himself.

"Uhm," he'd mumbled. "Take your time. You're my last appointment, so we can finish up anytime."

Asahi had stared after him, tears streaming down his face, as Noya scurried out the door.

~

Oh, also. If it wasn't apparent. Asahi has another problem.

It's short guys.

Okay, okay, yeah, no, that's a lie — it's more than that. Problems, galore.

It's short guys who have that warm energy — that indescribable magnetism — that draws everyone to them and makes everyone feel, for the brief moment they share, like the only person in the world.

It makes Asahi weak. _Noya,_ his massage therapist, makes him weak, and that's _definitely_  worth several amounts of Problem when he spends nearly three hours a week being touched by him. 

And there's the fact that he's naked during a lot of it.

~

You see, once Asahi's shoulder was more or less healed, they decided to keep seeing each other.

Well, not _seeing_ each other. Okay? NO! Once Asahi's shoulder was doing better, they stopped doing intensive work and moved to check-ins and massage just to make sure he doesn't strain himself moving forward! So, don't get it twisted — seeing each other! Ha!

Fine. So, Noya is really nice and funny, but in a way where he laughs at Asahi's jokes, too. As if Asahi's clever as hell, not him. He's affectionate, and it shows in the way he hangs up Asahi's coat for him, and pats his shoulder when they talk about the exercises he does on his own, and how he whoops when Asahi talks about his best games, and how he smiles down at him and murmurs hello when Asahi groggily props himself on his elbows after a massage — hair mussed as he blinks owlishly — like Asahi's just woken up from a long nap and he might just lean down to kiss him any moment. 

He's so, so gentle,  gently helping him heal, gently befriending him, gently coaxing him, gently tugging on all his strings like he knows exactly what Asahi needs, and what he wants.

Sure, Asahi thinks about _seeing_ Noya.

It might have been his biggest problem. But now there's the ultimate problem: his current situation.

~

He's literally going to expire from the shame, and if he _doesn't_ he's going to be upset about it.

Noya's voice is warm, but edged with something extra, as he rests his hands on Asahi's spine and asks, "You okay, Asahi?"

Asahi nods — and then shakes his head — a screaming litany of _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ running through his head when his cock twitches at the way Noya's voice goes scratchy when he's trying to stay quiet, almost like _he's_ the one who got a massage.

"I'm sorry," Asahi moans out, pressing his forehead into the headrest as Noya's thumb strokes absently over the bump of a vertebra.

"Don't be sorry," he says immediately. "What's wrong?

Asahi takes in a breath, the heavy blanket that covers his legs shifting and tingling as he does, and then lets it out. He's so fucked. "Just... gimme a sec."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Noya's voice tilts with a twinge of alarm for the first time. His hand moves away.

"No!" Asahi shakes his head again. "No, not at all. I just need — "

The energy changes gradually as Asahi breathes shakily, thighs and back and fists tense, and he can hear it in Noya's voice when he rumbles out, "You'll tell me if I need to stop, yeah, Asahi?"

As soon as Asahi says, "Yes, Noya," there's a quiet pump from the oil dispenser, and then his hands are back. "Nuh!" Asahi grunts out, about to protest, but it feels so _good_ , and Noya's voice is so soft as he shushes and pushes his body into the table, pressing him down with that compact strength that never fails to blow him away.

It could be mistaken as standard, professional stuff, at first. Noya's hands are still firm, still gentle, but no longer perfunctory. He touches with purpose, with relish, fingers teasing over the soft and chiseled parts of him, the curves and sharp points of him, until he's back to straining, but in a whole new way. Anxiety floats to the back of his mind after a little while, obliterated completely when Noya's fingers scratch up into his nape, lingering as a shadow falls over him and lips touch his shoulder blade.

"N-Noya..."

It's quiet for a moment, and then Noya's breath tickles over his skin: "Glad I get to make you feel good."

Asahi shudders, hand reaching out from under the blanket and grabbing onto what he can, catching on Noya's oblique, thumb skidding over his belt as he tries to get ahold of his soft polo shirt.

He pulls away the blanket then, leaving cool air to pebble up Asahi's thighs and ass before he pumps more oil into his hands and massages enthusiastically into each cheek.

His cock is making its mark for sure, puddling a watery stain into the cotton sheet as Asahi takes turns twitching and pressing into the feeling.

"Your butt is the _best,_ " Noya admits in a hushed tone, and Asahi laughs a little, making him laugh too, until Asahi groans as Noya spreads him apart for a brief, excited moment, and then moves down to his thighs.

He would be disappointed, but Noya clucks his tongue and taps his knee, coaxing him to lift his hips a little, and then his cock is exposed, tucked between his legs where Noya can reach him instead of under his stomach, out where Noya can oil him up and stroke him, where Asahi is completely at his mercy.

Asahi's eyes almost roll back in his head when Noya curls his fingers around him and pulls at him, deftly, too good, for several long moments.

Noya says something appreciative occasionally, teases tension into him even as he pulls tension out of him, and it's the most overwhelming, most easy thing in the world. Asahi likes not having to look at himself, likes the raw feeling and sounds Noya makes when he plays with him as he lays on his stomach, but after a little while, after the raw feeling becomes charged and frantic, he wants to see.

Noya smiles when Asahi moves to turn over, blanket falling to tangle around his ankle as his thighs splay and his flushed chest heaves. Asahi doesn't have time to grin back, because he's hooking his hand around Noya's neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

Things are... messy... after that. Khakis and grapeseed oil aren't a great mix, but Noya is careless, climbing onto the table and into Asahi's arms so they can put hands on each other. Mess is a problem, but a problem for future Asahi, and even more of a problem for future Noya, as he barely unbuttons his pants before he's rutting against Asahi's cock, getting oil down his front and in Asahi's hair when he pulls the elastic from it and strokes his fingers against Asahi's scalp.

Asahi licks into Noya's happy, unconcerned mouth, and finally gets his own hands on Noya's ass.

"I think _your_ butt may be the best," he says a little shyly into Noya's cheek when he gasps and rolls his hips against him.

"Ungh, fuck, you're too cute," Noya groans. "Wanna make you feel good, Asahi, wanna make you feel so good — "

Asahi moans and shoves at Noya's pants until he's naked from the waist down. Noya's small, but gorgeous, and his cock is too — thicker at the base with one pretty vein up the underside, twitching under Asahi's gaze, leaking when Asahi grabs him bodily and pulls him close again. Asahi clenches his hand into the meat of his pert little ass when their cocks line up and the oil slips them perfectly against each other, too much, too amazing. Noya's face is glassy and confused for once, from the pleasure.

"You always make me feel good," Asahi admits. "Like, a stupid amount. I'm surprised I haven't come a bunch of times from your hands. I — I think about you — it all the time."

"Fuck," Noya gusts out, and he pulls Asahi close with one of his strong arms and kisses him hard. His slippery hand snakes between them as Asahi clutches fists of his polo shirt in his hands until there's barely any room between them, and still his fingers grasp his cock and twist, pull, tug, _wring_ his orgasm from him.

It feels a tiny bit like that time with the crying. A flood of feeling, heartbeat hammering, blood searing, mindless and blank before come rushes out over Noya's knuckles and a stream of syllables rush out over Asahi's tongue.

Noya gasps into his mouth as he comes, too, shaking into the aftermath, and they collapse back against the massage table when their bodies can't strain anymore, Noya sprawled over Asahi like a muscly weighted blanket.

"I think I pulled something," Noya says, and Asahi raises his head in alarm before he sees the exhausted smile twitching at Noya’s mouth.

Asahi laughs.

~

Some groggy length of time later, Asahi finds himself mumbling into Noya's hair, "Next time we should try a bed," and _normally_ he'd panic a million times over in the long pause before the awkward rejection, but Noya's too quick.

"Maybe dinner first!" Noya chirps.

~

Okay, so Asahi has lots, and lots, of problems, right?

And now there's this new one: he's dating his massage therapist.

Weird? Maybe. Crazy? Definitely. But, sometimes you have to meet the problem head on — you know, make an appointment, shake its hand, go back, time and again.

You work out some kinks, cry it out. And, the problem becomes smaller, worn down. Maybe even a problem-solved, in the end. It becomes good.

This problem might be worth keeping around, though.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/byesweetheart_), [Tumblr](http://byesweetheart.tumblr.com/) or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/byesweetheart)!


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